Ghosts in the Tower
by Judge the Worthy
Summary: A glimpse into the tortured mind of Darth Vader inspired by the batca tank scene in Rogue One.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not and never will be able to outbuy Disney and therefore own Star Wars.**

 **This work was written as a character study to explore the psych of one of the most complex and interesting Dark-Lord-Space-Wizard-Samurai ever created. References to Rogue One, Star Wars: The Clone Wars, and of course, the main movies.**

" **Star Wars: Ghosts in the Tower** "

The dark tower was a melding of masonry, artistic vision, and foreboding. The structure's walls were so smooth and black that they seemed to suck in any surrounding light like a void. The dual spikes of onyx marble stabbed the burning sky in arrogance as the reinforced roots were gnawed by molten rivers of lava. Even from all the way up in the cold space of Mustafar's orbit, those unlucky enough to be cursed by the Force could hear the strangled gasps which choked their way from the black stone, trying to steal whatever clean air could be sifted from the ash and fire that polluted the planet's atmosphere. Truly, it was a beautiful - no, a perfect - monument to suffering.

Despite being called both a dwelling and fortress, the tower's furnishings were no better than those found in a prison. He'd chosen to live here, devoid of color, life, and comfort for years. In his opinion, this place _was_ a prison. A huge and empty cage made of poisonous anger and hatred, all just for him. It helped him forget who he was and what he had lost.

The visions had come true. None of it had really mattered: That they'd gotten married. That he had chosen love over duty and friendship. That he hadn't meant to kill her and their baby. Everything had transpired as it had been destined to, but it didn't ease the trauma and torture he'd endured. It didn't change what her death had meant for him. Yet it certainly reinforced his belief that he deserved to call such a place his home.

The castle's main gate was reached after crossing a bridge with a circular platform in the center, suspended over a sheer drop into the molten lava below. The gate opened into a throne room where, as the castle's lord, he held court over empty space. Off to the side of the throne room was a triangular door which lead to a smaller chamber. Other than the large bacta tank situated prominently in the chamber's center, and the necessary medical hoses and equipment needed to operate it, the chamber was almost completely empty. The tank's glass was thick and the liquid bacta within a bright blue, so most of the occupant's features were obscured from sight. It was obvious from a glance at his silhouette, though, that he was missing all four of his limbs. If someone could float sadly, he definitely was.

A black suit of armor sat on a table off to the side, prepped and ready to be put on at a moment's notice, though it took much more than a moment to actually put on.

He hadn't reacted to her just yet. For all anyone knew, he might have been asleep. Darth Vader was dependent on the suit he wore to survive, and this bacta tank was the only place in the galaxy he could physically sleep in peace.

He finally sensed her presence. His golden rimmed eyes snapped open before squinting as they adjusted to the lighting. Once his vision stabilized, his scarred brows rose in confusion. She took a deep breath and moved towards the tank.

He shook in futile anger, a helpless puppet until someone removed him from the tank. He warily watched her approach, returning the smile on her face with a hard but impotent glare.

"Calm down, Ani," she said confidently, resting her palm against the cold glass. His anger receded for a moment as he studied her. "Let me finish getting settled, then I'll help you out of there." She patted the tank and turned on her heel. Ignoring Darth Vader's muffled curses of annoyance and, very possibly, a few threats, Padme left the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**I am not and never will be able to out buy Disney and therefore own Star Wars. If I could, Dave Filoni would be in the captain's chair and Star Wars Theory would be employed by Lucasarts so his fan-film would be made an official-film.**

 **This work was written as a character study to explore the psych of one of the most complex and interesting Dark-Lord-Space-Wizard-Samurai ever created. References to Rogue One, Star Wars: The Clone Wars, and of course, the main movies. Also a reference to the Darth Vader and the Lost Command comic series. Find it and you'll receive a free all-insurance paid choke from the Dark Lord himself!**

When Padme returned to the bacta tank room, he started his jitter again. He was trying to talk to her. The oxygen mask he currently wore was sealed tightly around his nose and mouth, so she couldn't make out the words. "Hang on, Anakin," she chuckled. "Let's get you out of there first." She moved over to the tank's controls and started the discharge process.

The tanks lid was grabbed and removed by a claw extending from a recess in the rooms ceiling. Next, the harness which held Vader inside of the tank lifted him out of the bacta. Once the stumps of his legs had passed the rim, the tank flushed the liquid and recycled itself while the harness gently lowered him to the floor. Padme started to dry him off, taking great care not to tear any of the fragile skin off of her husband's charred flesh. Vader tracked her movements with his glowing yellow eyes as he watched her work. She simply ignored his glare. Despite the way he was staring at her, all she felt was love as she moved the towel gently across his mangled body, carefully patting him dry. She leaned forward and kissed him softly on the forehead.

"I've missed you so much, Ani," she breathed out, pausing to hold him in her embrace. He'd stopped moving when she'd kissed him, but his eyes hadn't softened. She suspected he'd probably try to fight her off if he wasn't currently dependent on her helping get him back inside his suit. She caressed his face softly as she rubbed little circles, trying to ease the pain she felt radiating off of him. She was going to love him no matter how he reacted to her. She was going to be gentle, tender, and hopefully remind him of better times.

"Whether you like it or not, Anakin," she said after a while. "I love you, and I'm here now." He mumbled something she couldn't quite catch. She continued moving the towel down his chest, taking care to avoid rubbing the electrical components sticking out from Vader's skin. She looked up at his face. The anger in his eyes receded just a little and she smiled at him.

"Hey, mom," someone called from the doorway.

Vader craned his head towards the voice, but couldn't see its owner due to his current position. Padme watched Vader carefully as his eyes finally settled on a human child no more than seven or eight standard years old. He looked back at her in confusion.

"Our son. Don't worry," she said. "You'll meet him soon enough, Anakin." She smiled softly. "Crazy right? The two of us having a kid." She stared blankly at the wall for a moment. "He's perfect though, in every way. You'd be proud of him." She shook her head softly and went back to work.

Vader turned again when the boy addressed him directly. "Hi, Dad," he said awkwardly. He waved shyly at Vader then sprinted from the room. Vader watched the child go.

Once Padme finished with the cloth, she started helping her husband put his suit on. There were so many pieces, but assembling it was pretty straightforward. If she picked up the wrong thing, Vader shook his head and point to the correct piece. When they had his arms and legs attached, he could have easily finished on his own, but he made no effort to do so and instead waited for her. Padme looked up when Jinn stopped in the doorway again.

"At some point, dear," she said to Jinn. "I'm going to have you take a look at his suit. There's got to be a way to improve it. This thing is clunky and complicated."

"Okay, mom," Jinn murmured, staring at the back of his father's head. He and Padme had almost finished encasing him within most of his suit except for the top half of his helmet and the protective plate that secured it all into place. He was still wearing the oxygen mask. Vader turned to look in Jinn's direction, but he ducked into the shadows of the doorway. Vader glanced back at Padme in a silent plea.

"Come here, son." She beckoned Jinn over to her. Vader watched as he took a deep breath to steady himself and then left the safety of the doorway. Padme stood up and helped Vader to his feet. She stopped Jinn right in front of him. "Isn't he wonderful, Anakin?" she whispered.

Vader said nothing and made no movement. For a long time, the room was filled by the unbroken wheezing sound of his synthetic breath. Jinn shifted nervously under his gaze. After the longest moment, Vader finally nodded ever so slightly. Padme picked up the rest of his helmet and looked up at him. He was hiding his emotions well, but she could tell by his posture that something was shifting.

A loud beeping went off in the corner of the room. Vader finally tore his eyes off of Jinn and looked back at Padme. She nodded and he bent down, allowing her to release the oxygen mask off his face. Vader quickly latched his helmet into place. He pressed a button on the control panel on the front of his chest and inhaled deeply. The sound of his raspy breathing through the helmet was disconcerting, but Padme must have put everything on him correctly since his suit was working. He stared at the two for a moment longer before heading to answer the comm.


	3. Chapter 3

**I am not and never will be able to out buy Disney and therefore own Star Wars. If I could, I'd make a comic or mini-series about Vader having to go to therapy sessions for his mental issues. (Pity the poor sap who has to be his therapist though.)**

 **This work was written as a character study to explore the psych of one of the most complex and interesting Dark-Lord-Space-Wizard-Samurai ever created. References to Rogue One, Star Wars: The Clone Wars, and of course, the main movies.**

Vader sat on his throne in silence. He leaned forward, unsure how he should proceed. He was alone in the room. He wasn't sure where Padme was at the moment. Part of him wanted to track her down and not let her out of his sight again, but the other part feared he'd scour the castle only to find nothing.

Vader was often assaulted by dreams and memories when he was meditating in the bacta tank. Clearly, he was hallucinating again. Did his subconscious actually dare to hope that it'd never have to wake up to a cruel reality where his angel no longer existed?

The Force was cruel to him. It loved to show him all the things he'd lost. From the moment he saw her standing there, he'd wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms. The shock of seeing his wife - alive - had sent ripples of pain through him. Losing her had been his greatest source of suffering. And it was the loss Sidious loved to stab into his heart like a sharp knife the most.

Yet this vision was still running its course. He didn't know what to think. She'd been dead for so long. He had never stopped mourning for her. Then out of nowhere, she walked back into his life, carrying herself like she'd never been gone. Like the years of pain, sorrow, and emptiness had never happened. Like she'd been living here the whole time and he'd simply never noticed. That was just how he remembered his angel. She never let anyone believe that she didn't know what she was doing. It had almost convinced him that what he saw was real, that she had actually come back to him. At least until he saw their son.

Their son. That was probably the most shocking part of this whole dream. If anything had tipped him off, it was that. Not only had Padme died, but she'd been pregnant with their child when Vader had killed her. Whether it would have been a son or daughter, he'd never know.

Did it ever cross his mind that Padme could have survived? She was strong and a fighter, after all. It had, but he had no reason to question his new master. Sidious had sealed Skywalker's fate the moment he told him that Padme was dead. Without her, nothing else mattered.

Padme was his heart. Once she was gone, so was he. Anakin had died the moment he learned that she'd been killed by his own hand. Not a physical death, though it might as well have been considering the outcome. He was a corpse made of wires and metal. An empty shell fueled not by organs, but anger, hatred, and suffering. He no longer cared about anything: The war, the side he was on, who ordered him around, or even what he fought for. He'd go wherever he was pointed.

Joining Padme in death was out of the question. Sidious wouldn't let him die, though Vader begged the Force for death and threw himself into its jaws at any chance he got. And Sidious had decided that made Vader the perfect weapon - the perfect slave - for his new Empire. Why resist his destiny?

Vader's wallowing was disturbed by a small ripple in the Force. Rousing himself, Vader got up and left the throne room, guided by his senses.


	4. Chapter 4

**I am not and never will be able to out buy Disney and therefore own Star Wars. If I could, I'd order a spin off series showing Ben Solo's transformation into Kylo Ren which tells us who the kark Snoke actually is.**

 **This work was written as a character study to explore the psych of one of the most complex and interesting Dark-Lord-Space-Wizard-Samurai ever created. References to Rogue One, Star Wars: The Clone Wars, and of course, the main movies.**

Vader opened the door, expecting the room to be empty like the others. Instead, he was met by a burst of color. The rush was so overwhelming after the darkness of the rest of the castle that he had to close his eyes from behind his helmet. After a moment of hesitation, Vader went inside.

A bed was situated in the corner, covered with warm furs, pillows, and blankets. Intricate tapestries hung from the walls, depicting familiar scenes from another life. Thin but carefully patterned curtains hung over the window. He could almost forget about the horrible, volcanic hell outside.

Four shelves held items Vader did not recognize. He perused them absentmindedly, unsure of their significance. This was definitely the longest, most elaborate vision he'd had yet. His helmet's lenses finally stopped on a small toy.

He picked it up and stared at it. By the quality of craftsmanship, it was almost certainly created by hand. It wore black, Jedi robes, had wavy golden-brown hair, and a scar traced down its right eye. Padme had made their son a replica of him. Or rather, of who he used to be.

 _No, of who Anakin used to be_ , he reminded himself. He was no longer that same person.

Even if Padme was still alive, why would she come here? Would she really bring their son to such a place?

She wouldn't.

How could she love or want this mockery of her husband? Would she really look on him with kindness after what he'd done to her?

He couldn't hope for it. It was as simple as that.

Vader set the toy down and fled the room. None of this was real. He couldn't believe it. He was still floating in the bacta tank, deep in meditation and the dark side. He was still the lonely, cold, and horrible monster he'd become. This was all just another form of torture he'd have to learn to endure.


	5. Chapter 5

**I am not and never will be able to out buy Disney and therefore own Star Wars. If I could, I'd have people who actually care about this franchise working at Lucasarts.**

 **Due to this being written in a sleep-deprived frenzy at two in the morning, this one is very short. I'm honestly surprised and grateful that anyone is actually interested in my writing. Your feedback is welcome.**

 **This work was written as a character study to explore the psych of one of the most complex and interesting Dark-Lord-Space-Wizard-Samurai ever created. References to Rogue One, Star Wars: The Clone Wars, and of course, the main movies.**

Vader stood in front of the bacta tank, half expecting to see himself floating inside. After looking it over, he concluded that, besides his missing body, everything was in place. Next, he checked the tank controls, but found nothing out of the ordinary.

His eyes landed on the towel Padme had so tenderly rubbed over his skin. Vader picked it up and studied it. It was still damp, but his leather gloves blocked the moisture. Even without the gloves, his metal hands and burnt nerves wouldn't feel anything. He could only remember what something damp felt like.

After several minutes, he set the cloth down and tried to take a deep breath. This dream had quickly turned from wonderful and confusing to wicked and torturous. He'd rather wake up and forget about it than be forced to explore and see every detail of the life he'd lost. But no matter what he did, he couldn't break out of the heavy sleep he'd fallen into. The Force lived in the air around him. In the suit. In his blood.

Frustrated but tired of pacing, he left the chamber to follow the Force's incessant will.


	6. Chapter 6

**I am not and never will be able to out buy Disney and therefore own Star Wars. If I could, I'd make the storyline of 'Rebels' more streamlined and interesting. I'd also cut Ezra. (Apologies up front to any Ezra fans, but I find him annoying! Never listens, back talks everyone, is a darn punk, and, unlike Ahsoka, Han, Leia, or Luke, he never seems to mature as time goes on. What the kriff Dave?!)**

 **Oddly enough, I decided on the setting for this chapter when I was _eating_. ****This is the longest chapter I've written, and it's all thanks to my dinner.**

 **Your feedback is welcome.**

 **This work was written as a character study to explore the psych of one of the most complex and interesting Dark-Lord-Space-Wizard-Samurai ever created. References to Rogue One, Star Wars: The Clone Wars, and of course, the main movies.**

He found them in his barely used kitchens, talking animatedly with each other about something. Vader stood outside the door and listened. Padme's voice sounded almost exactly the same, except deeper and softer. The temptation to give in was getting harder to fight as he stood there, just listening to her voice. The way she talked to Jinn was so gentle and sweet.

He had to admit that this dream was getting more vivid as time wore on. He'd never had one so crazy or detailed before. Definitely never about them having a child. That was new. He had no clue what any of it meant, or why the Force had suddenly changed the way it tortured him. It was so outlandish that, had he not known better, it could have almost been real.

Vader thought about the way Padme had spoken about their son when she'd been helping him into his suit. The rush of emotion, the pride, the almost disbelief that something so wonderful could have come from them. He couldn't really blame her for sounding that way. In fact, he questioned it too. How could something good come from him? From Padme, easy. From him, not so much. The idea of him trying to be a father was almost frightening and probably wouldn't end well at all.

Padme being a good mother didn't surprise Vader in the least. She had always been good with kids. Vader recalled memories of Anakin's young padawan, Ahsoka Tano, and the sisterly bond she and Padme had forged. Whenever Skywalker escorted her on trips to Naboo, he never failed to notice how the Naboo children always smiled at her. And she had been so beautiful, almost radiant, the night she and Skywalker had discussed their child's future.

He sighed. He couldn't stand it anymore. Who cared if he was in a delusional, Force induced coma? Not even a call from Tarkin had snapped him out of his dream.

Their conversation died as soon as he opened the door. He looked between them, his eyes lingering on their son and then shifting back to Padme. She looked so different, and yet so much like he remembered. She was still just as beautiful as she'd always been, but it was in a more sophisticated way now.

"Hi Dad," Jinn said, and Vader took the time to study him. Jinn's features were more like Padme's, but his eyes were Anakin's shade of blue. Maybe the chin was from Skywalker too. He had wavy brown hair that rested above his shoulders. His skin was fair, perhaps a shade or two darker than Anakin's had been. As Padme had said, he was perfect.

"If you'd like, I could put some of this in the food processor and put it in your suit, so you could have some."

Vader stared at Jinn for a moment longer, and then glanced back at Padme. She had a faint, but somewhat sad smile on her lips, gazing on her son with pride. Vader nodded, deciding that, if this was a dream, he didn't want to wake up just yet. As weird as it was, whatever he did here wouldn't cause any problems since he was currently suspended in the bacta tank.

He sat down as the boy got up and sampled a plate of the food they'd made, then ran it through the cutter. Vader stiffly rested his hand on the table, not really sure how this would or even could work, though his son seemed certain he could feed it to him. Whatever it was had to taste better than the vita-paste he'd been living on for so long. The stuff barely qualified as food, but it had all the nutrients needed to sustain his crippled body.

Padme reached over and set her hand over his. Even though he couldn't feel it, Vader could still remember what the physical sensation was like. She smiled at him softly. He wanted to give in completely, to believe that all of this was real, but every time he thought that, fear caused him to freeze. Fear that he'd end up hugging empty air. Fear that if he closed his eyes, she'd vanish. Fear that if he tried to touch her, he'd end the dream and be alone all over again.

The boy came over and Vader looked up at him as he paused near his right side. Jinn had a faraway look in his bright blue eyes, while he was softly waving his hand through the air. Vader felt the Force shift around him and he examined his son curiously.

Whatever he was doing, Jinn wasn't prying into Vader's mind, but rather searching the space around him, like he was looking for something in particular. It was an odd sensation, like tiny pinpricks ghosting across Vader's suit. After a moment, Jinn refocused and gave a shy smile. Then, to Vader's surprise, his hands went straight to the feeding tube in the jaw of his helmet. He traced his fingers back beneath the plate where the vita-paste was forced in.

Vader heard the seal pop, and then Jinn seemed to use the Force to pull the remains of the vita-paste out. There wasn't much left as he hadn't refilled it today. Vader sat still as Jinn started pushing the food-mush that he'd made into his suit. After a few minutes of hard work, Jinn closed the seal and nodded to him. Vader took a deep breath and then pushed a button on his chest, forcing some of it into his mouth.

With the damage to his trachea, he had to be careful swallowing anything. He often had to force his vita-paste down his damaged throat, after which he struggled to breath as his body was wracked by violent coughs while his lungs felt like shards of glass being smashed into powder.

The first bite was a little sour, tainted by the remains of the vita-paste, but the second one was the most delicious thing Vader had ever tasted, and he was instantly transported back to a time when he had been able to freely sample the tastes and smells of real food.

Either that, or he'd completely forgotten what good food was supposed to taste like.

It felt strange with them both watching him, but he was in no hurry to swallow, savoring the flavor and texture as long as he possibly could.

"Thank you," he said finally, trying not to get overly emotional over food.

The boy's whole face lit up, a sparkle in his eyes. "You're welcome!" he said happily and sat back down opposite of him. Padme patted Jinn softly on the shoulder and she flashed him a smile too.

"How did you know how to put it in my suit?" Vader asked after another bite, suddenly curious about this boy.

"Um," Jinn started a little nervously. "I can feel the way machines work in the Force and know how to fix them or upgrade them. When I concentrate, I can see all the individual pieces and how they come together. I can also find where they're broken or where they can be improved. Sometimes even bypassing current mechanisms that are unnecessary."

"He's a natural mechanic," Padme said with pride. "I think he's as good as you, Ani."

"Mom says I get it from you," the boy said. "That you liked to meditate by working on things and tinkering. I do that too."

Now Padme telling him to look at Vader's suit made a lot more sense. If it were possible to upgrade it and make it less uncomfortable, he'd be glad to try it. Not that he imagined there was much he could do. Vader spent any time he could trying to circumvent some of the especially painful parts Sidious had put into it. Over the years, he'd made small minor improvements to it, but too much of it was necessary to survive. Besides, why was he even considering this? It was just a dream.

"Tell me your name again?"

"Jinn," he said.

"Jinn," Vader repeated. _Like Qui-gon._

Thoughts of the Jedi Master who had found and rescued Anakin from slavery, bringing him and Padme together for the first time, passed through Vader's mind. He wondered if that's why Padme had named the boy. Vader didn't know this boy, but he was definitely kind, like his namesake.

Jinn was everything he'd lost. It was like Vader was staring at a part of himself that had once been inside him. He was so pure and perfect and loving. Maybe the Force was trying to say that part of Anakin wasn't really dead like he'd believed. Was it possible to become whole once again?

Vader stood up suddenly, feeling overwhelmed. Tears welled in his eyes and he tried to blink them away which only made his helmet display blink through its settings. Vader groaned in frustration. This was too much. Maybe it wasn't a dream at all, but a trick of the Force. Either way, he had to wake up. If he gave in, the torture would destroy what remained of his sanity completely.

Vader turned on his heel and left the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**I am not and never will be able to out buy Disney and therefore own Star Wars.**

 **Almost finished. Feedback is welcome.**

 **This work was written as a character study to explore the psych of one of the most complex and interesting Dark-Lord-Space-Wizard-Samurai ever created. References to Rogue One, Star Wars: The Clone Wars, the Darth Vader comic series, and of course, the main movies.**

Vader paced the corridors of his fortress in a rage.

Could Sidious be testing him somehow? It would explain why Vader couldn't wake up, no matter how hard he tried, though he didn't know how his master had been able to conjure Jinn. He didn't know how Sidious could make someone so convincing and yet so unrealistic. What was he even supposed to prove? That he would kill Padme if she were to return from death? That his loyalty was to his master and him alone? That not even the lure of a family could tear Vader from his place within the Empire?

It had to be a test. Sidious was trying to find his weakness so he'd know where to stab the next knife. He had half a mind to call Sidious, expecting to hear the Sith Lord tell him that he'd never use something so primitive simply to test Vader's conviction. That it was all his imagination. All in his head.

Vader went over to the control panel in his medical chamber and keyed a special sequence on the switches. The bacta tank was slowly raised, revealing a lift. Standing on the pad, Vader disappeared into his private sanctum. It wasn't really a sanctum so much as the only place in the castle no one but he and the Emperor knew about. He went inside and slammed the button to seal the blast-door behind him.

Once, this had been a natural cave housing a shrine. After taking up residence in the fortress above, Vader had personally supervised the droids which had carved and expanded the cavern until there were two separate chambers. Smooth, glossy obsidian lined what had once been rough stone. The shrine itself had been smashed and razed, the Dark Side energies it collected dispersed and infused into the surrounding walls.

The sanctum's first chamber held a holotable where he spoke with Sidious over private matters. Lining the first chamber's wall were racks of duplicate suits of armor. Each bore some type of damage, scars which served as a testament to a trial Vader had overcome.

The second chamber was where he kept the few items which made him feel sentimental, along with his private throne. Each item was prominently displayed on its own podium. A beaded Padawan braid. An ancient, blue Sith war helmet. A pair of green lightsabers, one standard length, and the other a shoto. A broken, corrupted kyber crystal.

Vader sat down hard on the sanctum's central chair and stared at the wall. The ghosts hadn't made their way down here yet. In this room he could believe everything was as it always was: dark and cold.

Vader turned his head and his gaze finally stopped on the stand that held Padme's necklace. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned back.

Why? Why in this accursed galaxy had he kept it?

Because it was all that he had left of her after finding out that she'd been buried on Naboo after that forsaken night.

He shook himself, unwilling to relive that day again. He'd already done so far too many times. He had half a mind to take the necklace and throw it into the lava. Maybe Sidious was trying to provide an opportunity for Vader to purge himself completely.

Vader agreed. It was time to kill Anakin Skywalker once and for all.


	8. Chapter 8

**I am not and never will be able to out buy Disney and therefore own Star Wars.**

 **Here we are at the end. Thank you so much to all of you who have followed this story. I loved writing this, and your support has made it all the more enjoyable. You're awesome.**

 **This work was written as a character study to explore the psych of one of the most complex and interesting Dark-Lord-Space-Wizard-Samurai ever created. References to Rogue One, Star Wars: The Clone Wars, the Darth Vader comic series, and of course, the main movies.**

They weren't there when Vader returned to the kitchens. He scoured every inch of the tower, probing every room with the Force, but could find no trace of them. Frustrated and tired, he sat down on his throne. He couldn't take it anymore. It was getting late. He should probably fetch his servants and have them put him back in the bacta tank. Maybe by the time he woke up, he'd be able to forget all of this, and he could go back to drowning in his misery.


End file.
